Uniforms and Individuality

This weekend I rummaged through my hard drive in an attempt to find any unfinished pieces of creative or non-fiction writing. The process wasn't entirely unlike rummaging through those boxes that hide at the back of your closet or shed or storage facility. I found heaps of unfinished and promising ideas (along with a fair amount of crap), much of which I had been thinking about for a while. Below is a piece that I found in a finished state. I wrote it written during my first week of teaching at my current school, when things were new and overwhealming and I was a one year less Kiwi. Surprisingly, it still applies to how I feel about uniform policies.

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I’ve been carrying aspects of American culture with me without consciously deciding to do so. This week, as I began my first week of work at my new school, has been a crash course in confronting this baggage. The large, uniformed all-boys school I work at is a very different environment from your average American public school. Listening to senior staff members and reading through the various school documents that introduce the school's policies, I realised that the uniform thing is a pretty big change. My first reaction to the requirement that I strictly enforce proper wearing of the uniform was, "c'mon, give the kids some room for expression. Does it really matter if their hair touches their collar?" But that was my previous reaction to T-shirt slogan banning in high schools and length requirements on shorts and skirts. Those clothing requirements of yesteryear seemed intrusive to individual expression at the time, and I tended to look at this school’s uniforms in that same light.

That outlook changed slightly this week when I met a fellow English teacher in my department. Also a first year teacher, he and I attended a number of meetings together. After the usual getting-to-know-you banter he mentioned that he had spent a year in high school abroad; in Michigan, to be precise. He said one of the biggest differences he saw between the school systems was the clothing. He felt overwhelmed by dress requirements, by how much what you wore influenced your social experience. He noted that while he was in the States he thought as frequently, if not more, about his clothing and social grouping as he did about academics. This co-worker of mine feels that uniforms take one variable out of an equation that is already too crowded with unknowns. In New Zealand, he noted, everyone wears the same thing to school; your personality is what sets you apart and draws you together, not the logo on your sneakers. There’s no need to scour the mall before classes start for the new wardrobe because you know that there is a set of clothing waiting for you to pick up at the school’s uniform shop for a nominal fee (which is somewhat less than retail clothing prices). This seemed a valid justification for uniforms in his eyes and I can't argue with the benefits one person personally experienced because of this. All things said, though, I'm inclined to chalk up any discomfort with the lack of uniforms to an unfimiliarity with the non-uniformed environment.

So the argument goes that uniforms are the great leveller in schools and foster a focus on personality. I see this uniformity producing exactly the opposite effect on these students. Instead of determining social groups according to personalities and interests, I see students excluding their peers for wider societal reasons. Those students who most vocally resent that they are not allowed to wear their preferred clothing to school find other ways to display their individuality. They grow their bangs out long so that they cover their eyes; pomade ensures that they can sweep the hair from their eyes enough that senior management at the school cannot claim that their hair prevents them from seeing the teacher or the board. These students are labelled “emos”, short for “emotionals”. This group is much like the Goths of the 90’s but the do not limit themselves to just dark emotions. They are, however, big fans of long bangs, black eye-makeup and thrasher music. They value their angst as every good teenager should and are vocal enough to keep things lively.

Other than this group, most other cliques tend to fall into the “culture kinship” class or the “hobbyist” class. Maori and Pacific Island student cut their hair in style that identifies them as a part of that group. Those students who would wear baggy pants pull their uniform trousers down low so that their shirts are just barely able to stay tucked in if posture is perfect and straight. Students from Korea and China never wear the shorts; white kids never wear the long trousers, even if it’s freezing cold. Rugby goons favour the mullet hair style; cricket players the close-cropped “Leave it to Beaver” side part and the knit cardigan top instead of the cotton sweatshirt.

On a purely anecdotal level I can honestly say that I see major drawbacks with school uniforms. To the staff at these school, uniforms represent an opportunity for a British moral and social education that does not reflect the modern and diverse New Zealand. Every student is subjected to the same rules which are enforced with a draconian even handedness by staff who are responsible for upholding the “respect thy elders-or else” status quo. Teachers are dominant and can demonstrate this very easily by telling a student to pull his socks up or to tuck in his shirt. Any teacher can give a detention to a student if his hair is too long, and even demand that the student get a hair cut that afternoon if he doesn’t want to get another detention on top of it. Jewellery is forbidden outside of culturally important pieces such as Maori pendants. Wrist watches and Medic Alert bracelets are acceptable. Hair colours of an unnatural colour and earrings are not allowed. Make-up, even for girls, is forbidden.

What of those students who choose to dress outside of school hours in styles that the school does not endorse? They are ostracised by the students who accept the mainstream dress codes of the school community. Think back to those hard-rocking Emos. If a student is seen wearing black clothing, leather, eye make-up, or studs outside of school, he can be sure that the other students will still see that image of him when he comes to school the following day. “I saw him wearing that crap,” a student might say, “at the cinema. He’s such a fucking Emo.” The judgement having been passed, the social relationship developed outside the school will go on inside the classroom as if the uniform did not exist.

Meanwhile, the differences in skin colour are enhanced in a society that is experiencing major diversification shock. Think back to the shorts versus long trousers boundary that occurs at this school. This choice of clothing is based purely on skin colour. If uniforms are meant to be the great equaliser, then this most disgusting and damaging form of other-ness shouldn’t happen. Xenophobia can’t be hidden under polo shirts and knee-high socks. If New Zealand wants to find a way to keep cliques and racism to a minimum they’re going to have to come up with a more original and holistic plan.

When all is said and done the only benefit I see in uniforms are that they provide parents and students with cheaper prices in clothing. And what is so bad about that, you may ask? This scenario is what’s so bad about the situation: I have students who refuse to wear adequate clothing in the winter because it’s “uncool”, the only "cool" option being inadequate to the climate. These students sit shivering in poorly-heated classrooms for half of their school year, unable to relax and thereby focus on the lesson, while I get to wear my own personal jacket and choice of clothing that is appropriate to the weather. On those few “mufti” days when students actually get to wear clothing of their choice to school they are much more focussed during class time because they are properly insulated and are physically comfortable. I will grant that there is a bit more chatter than usual because of the novelty of the day, but it really isn’t hard to redirect that verbal energy into some sort of fun group project that fits with the unit at hand.

Is the money saved by subsidised clothing worth the cost of unproductive lessons and a segregated school community? I say no.